


Survivalist Tid-Bits

by Sintina



Series: No Cars [3]
Category: Walking Dead, Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M, Falling In Love, Fluffy!, Loving Marriage, Safe Haven, Sex Talk, Sexy Times
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-29
Updated: 2015-02-28
Packaged: 2018-01-20 15:42:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1515980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sintina/pseuds/Sintina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Beth and Daryl fluffy relationship episodes. Real-life survival lessons peppered into the chapter notes.</p><p> Eventual smut for Bethyl, as well as some of the other couples!  </p><p>Follows No Car For Beth, but you don’t have to read No Car to enjoy these one-shots!<br/>Just know Daryl and Beth are a couple and the whole group is safe at a mega-church complex, post Season 4.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Details! Please!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this episode, Maggie and Beth make cookies with powdered eggs. 
> 
> Zombie Apocalypse Baking Tip: http://www.cookingwithmyfoodstorage.com/2011/01/whole-egg-powder.html 
> 
> Bonus: you can EAT the cookie dough without someone griping at you about salmonella! **Win!!**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am an emergency manager, by trade. Think “Doomsday Preppers,” with lots of government paperwork latched on. That’s my job. So, this summer, I’ll give y’all some disaster lessons with your Bethyl! Because, why not?

“It was _Daryl’s_ idea?!” Maggie’s mouth hung aghast at the revelation. She and Beth were making cookies with supplies Daryl and Glenn brought back from a run. Their two men were doing runs together a lot lately, growing the brotherhood between them. 

“Yep!” Beth chirped proudly, looking down at her ring “I didn’t need anything like this, not really,” she heavily stirred the powdered eggs into their cookie dough, “I mean, now that I have it, I love it! But, it’s not something I would’ve asked for or insisted on, you know? Daryl and I belong together and we don’t need rings to prove that to everyone,” she smiled serenely, fidgeting with it, “But… Daddy would’ve loved this, wouldn’t he?”

“Daddy would’ve balled his eyes out! I gotta admit I nearly did… seeing the two of you wearing ‘em together for the first time!”

“Aw… sis…” Beth’s head was still down, eyes on the ring. She had a big, closed-lip, silly grin. 

“What gave him the idea to use your clothes?” No one really had any worldly possessions to share with one another, anymore, except the clothes on their backs. Maggie loved their braided strings of each other's clothing made into rings! Beth’s boots and Daryl’s wings were so indicative of their personalities, their lives… it was really the sweetest thing Maggie’d ever heard. Except, of course, for the silly image of her own man scavenging a bunch of female walkers for just the right ring. Maggie fiddled with hers, thinking of Glenn when he gave it to her and smiling a secret smile. The smile of their love story.

“Well…” Beth grinned her own little grin at the activities in the woods, the tree, leading up to Daryl's braid-ring suggestion, “some strings were sticking out of Daryl’s wings and tickling him. That’s when the idea occurred to him.” 

Maggie connected various dots very quickly. 

“Wait… a string was sticking _out_ of his wings and somehow tickling his skin… through his shirt… on the _inside_ of his clothes?” 

Beth flushed, she couldn’t stop her lips’ upturn, though she tried and tried: “No! Of course not,” she fumbled. 

“Well, how did this string start bothering him then? Did you pull it out and bug him with it?” Maggie asked in the sarcastic voice she used when Beth was caught in a lie. Big sister was patronizing the truth right out of her. 

“Yes?” Beth tried. 

“No.” Maggie replied, an eyebrow raised and waiting.

“Fine! We… uh… we weren’t wearing our clothes... when Daryl thought up how to make the rings…” 

“Bethany Ann Greene! I declare!” Maggie shrilled in a proper-old-Southern-lady voice. 

“Shut up!” Beth shoved her shoulder, “You had to know we were…” she flushed again, “you know…” 

“I did not _have_ to know anything, missy!” Maggie wasn’t all old-lady. She was her own mocking self, “I didn’t know how long you’d been a couple. Glenn just told me he found you guys in that cul-de-sac and you were basically naked! He didn’t say when that was! And it can’t have been more than three months ago, because we ain’t been out of the prison that long!” She realized she was teasing Beth too much and her little sister couldn’t tell if this was a lecture or not. So, she softened: “Course, two months nowadays might as well be two years _back then_ , so it’s not like I’m ashamed o' you givin' it up to Daryl. I jumped Glenn’s bones almost as soon as I met him. First time we were alone, in fact,” 

“Margaret Greene! I declare!” Beth shrilled exactly the way her sister had. 

“Hey, I was a big girl! I could decide for myself!” she turned serious, “I guess that’s why everyone got so angsty with you, because people didn’t think you were old enough... that you were taken advantage of," she sighed, "Plus, for pretty much everyone, even me, you were like the only sweet, innocent person left on Earth, except baby Judith.”

“Were? I’m still sweet and innocent! Or so Daryl says,” 

“You’re right. Or Daryl’s right. It don’t change who you are. Sorry. Didn’t mean to imply it did,” 

“Thank you,” Beth nodded her head pointedly with a sweet smile. 

“So…. uh….” Maggie sucked in one corner of her cheek, making a deep dimple, playful eyes dancing right into Beth’s, “What’s he like?” 

Beth scrunched up her eyebrows in a question. She just looked confused. 

Maggie huffed: “You know! With Daryl. What’s that like?” 

“Maggie! Oh my god!” she blurted, then looking around them, embarrassed, and quietly, “Really? Why are you asking me that?!” 

“Why not?! We never got to talk 'bout this stuff before!” 

Beth’s whole body must have been stained red like a wine glass. Her muscles tensed up. “Maybe cause I didn’t want to!” she insisted. 

Maggie was not convinced: "Girl, you've got to want to talk about it! Come on!" and she tugged on her sister's sleeve like a little kid. At Beth’s continued tight-lipped resolve, "Look, this is supposed to be one of the best parts about having a sister! I've been waiting a long time for this!"

"For me to lose my...?!"

"No! Geez... I mean, for you to be old enough to talk to me about this stuff. For us both to have guys we loved, be married, not just sex!" 

"But you don't want to talk about how much we love Daryl and Glenn!" 

Maggie huffed. "All my chick friends are dead, Bethy. And back at the prison, well, I think I was really the only one with an active, you know..." 

Rosita's voice came up behind them: "Sex life?" she laughed, "It's not just you, Maggie. I tried quizzing her about that goodness and she just won't give up any details!" She grabbed one of the cookies the sisters just baked. "It's a crime against women as a whole! You should share some knowledge with us, girl!' 

"I don't know what to say," Beth's throat was a bit clutched. Rosita being here didn't help. "Girls at school didn't really talk like y'all want to... I mean, they did, but I wasn't part of it. Jimmy and I didn't get too far before everything happened." Something occurred to her... "Maggie, you don't need me for _this_ anymore, anyway. You've got Rosita now! Abraham's pretty hot, ya know?" she offered. 

Rosita laughed. "I’ll never hear about Daryl Dixon in bed if Beth isn't even comfortable talking to _you_ about it Mags!"

"Thanks, Rosy," Maggie rolled her eyes, crunching another cookie. 

"It's not you," Beth chided her sister, but then she snapped at them both: "This is ridiculous! I don't even know what you want to know!" 

Maggie soothed: "It's not so much that I want to know something specific,"

"I wanna know specifics!" Rosita interrupted, "She doesn't speak for both of us!" 

Maggie scoffed, "Look, it's just... one of the best things about having great sex is talking about it! That's what I meant by waiting so long for this with you. That's what sisters do, isn't it?" 

"I guess. I just never pictured us doing it," 

"I never pictured us meeting our men in the apocalypse! Things change. We should take what little pleasures we can get," 

"Maggie," Rosita took a big swallow of water, "we all bugged her about this after the fisherman eye candy! It's no use, trust me." 

"Wait. What fisherman?"

"Daryl! Even Abraham was jealous that day!" 

Beth giggled out loud. She couldn't help it! These two kept reminding her of some of her best ~most wild~ sex-capades with Daryl! 

"Look!" Rosita pointed at Beth, "What's _that_ about?!" then she exclaimed a high-pitched gasp, understanding: "Oh! Something happened the next day when y'all went hunting!!" 

Maggie was frustrated at being out of the loop and impatiently stamped her foot. Beth piped up, not wanting to hear Rosita's summary of events:

"We were camped out by a man-made creek for two days before we made it to Terminus," she raised her chin, smiling at both of them, "Rosita made us this epic fish stew from minnows that Daryl caught..."

"With his shirt! While standing topless in the water!" Rosita finished. "Those arms... shoulders, the tattoos," she sighed longingly, "... his hair... Just his face, all concentration and focus!" 

"I was really proud to call him mine that day," Beth smirked; then came up with a way to answer Rosita's accusation, "When we were hunting, next day, I teased him about it, because he wanted to get all indignant. Like not a single bit of him enjoyed all the female attention. I called him on his bullshit! It was funny. That's all I was thinking about when I giggled, just now. He's just so cute when he's stubborn, sometimes!" she casually omitted all the good parts, testing if the others might buy her smooth deletion. 

"See?!" Maggie crowed, "That's a great story, right there!" she hit the counter in her enthusiasm, "That's so sweet and sexy, all at once! Makes the two of you make sense as a couple to me. I can totally see you coaxing him out of his shell, Bethy," 

"I'd like to coax him out of more than that," Sasha slid into the room, knowing exactly who they were talking about and grabbing a cookie, "No offense, of course, Beth, he's yours. But man... if we could just make copies of him... like all these cookies here. So we could each have one. Not forever. Just for that short term satisfaction, like a cookie, and the memory to keep with us forever..." 

"I don't advise that," Carol walked in, "Just makes you want him more, once you can't have him," she chuckled with a wink at Beth to let the girl know she was joking and not literally pining after Daryl. Not that pining was Carol's style, ever. But maybe Beth needed the reassurance, all the same. Beth sure looked like she needed help. Carol smiled around her own cookie, eyes full of mirth. 

"Where are all you people coming from!??" Beth was so embarrassed now she almost bolted right through the women and out the door. 

"Honey," Rosita chided, hands on her hips, "You two are in here, making honest to _God_ chocolate chip cookies _and_ talking about sex with Daryl Dixon! I can't believe every woman left alive in Georgia isn't in this room right now! A call shoulda gone out around all the remaining estrogen left on Earth. Strangers should be knocking on the church doors any minute!" They all laughed, nodding agreement. Beth wanted to melt into the floor. What might have been a bonding experience for just her and Maggie, their first real sex-talk, had spiraled wildly out of control. Her big sister noticed and looked at Beth with eyes of real pity. This was Maggie's fault, after all. Her booming voice when she got excited clearly covered everyone in the church and inadvertently involved them in the private conversation. Plus, yes, you could smell the cookies baking, even outside.

Carol noticed the exchange of looks between the girls. Mother Carol instincts ramped up. She assessed the avalanche in the room was beyond the sisters' control. Better help them out. 

"You Greene girls are so damn loud," Carol chided, "If you don't want everyone in your business, you've got to learn to have stealth orgasms… like Ty and I," 

A unanimous double take rippled through the women. Silence, as no one breathed and everyone stared. 

"You... and... Ty??" Sasha managed to gurgle. 

"See what I mean, girls?" Carol smiled that brilliant, wise old Carol, triumphant smile; that was mostly in her eyes, when she knew she'd taught everyone a lesson. "I think I know why Beth doesn't want to talk. She and I are in a similar situation. Our men are shy, personal, and closed lipped. They don't like their business being everyone's business. Plus, they aren't the sexually overt type; like Glenn with all his PDA or Bob practically singing love sonnets down the halls to Sasha here!" and she shook a half-eaten cookie at Sasha, chuckling. Sasha smiled and rolled her eyes; her chin slightly rolling up, too. Bob was so adorably ridiculous! 

"Anyway," Carol continued, "If I were you, Beth, I'd talk to Daryl about it. Ask him if he cares if you give us ladies the goods. Tell him you'll never get any peace unless you gossip about him... just a little bit!" With that, she gathered three cookies in her small hand and strutted from the room without another word.

"Yeah, Beth! Great idea!" Rosita prodded. Maggie smiled and clutched one of Beth's hands in a small squeeze. 

"Carol's right. Talk to Daryl about it. Ask him if it's okay." 

"Talk ta me 'bout what?" Daryl strode into the room, "Holy shit. Ya'll made cookies for real? Thought you were just jokin', babe," and his greedy eyes scanned the newest tray to come from the oven, still softly steaming. 

"I am SO glad you're here!" Beth dove for him, away from the ravenous members of her own sex. "We've got places to be! Here, get some cookies," she shoved his hands full. 

"Whatever you say," he looked around at all the gawkers and shrugged.

"Let's go! Bye ladies!" And Beth all but shoved him from the kitchen. They both heard snickers and lowered voices as Beth scuttled them down the hall. 

When they were a good ways clear, in the sanctuary, alone, he half sat, half stood; leaned against the back of a pew, his butt resting on its top, looking at her as she fiddled with her hands and rocked on her feet. He munched a cookie and licked his fingers of the sticky chocolate. Finally, he started: "Mind tellin' me..." 

"They want me to talk about..." Beth met his eyes and that familiar sensual chill rolled through her. She wasn't concerned anymore. But she was still nervous for reasons she couldn't place. 

"Bout us having sex?" Daryl offered. 

"How'd you know?" 

"Carol warned me. Sort of. Said you needed rescuin' when I passed her in the hall," he bit his nail, "I get in there and you're ganged up on by a bunch of chicks, talkin' 'bout askin' me something," he spit a bit of nail out, "Just put two and two together, s'pose..." 

"Sorry. I know you don't want me to gossip about you," she hung her head. 

"Nah, lover. Like you say, men can be arm-candy too," he cocked his chin at her, a bit smug. 

"You really don't mind?" 

"Be a hypocrite if I did. The guys ask me about you." 

She gasped, and couldn't tell if she should be offended or not. One way to find out, advancing on him: 

"What do you tell them?!" she shoved his shoulder.

"Nothin' too graphic. You're a screamer, 'cept they knew that already," and he smirked at her. 

He _was not_ taking this as seriously as she had. Well, why would he? Beth wasn't his first. Sex wasn't like some secret, sacred thing for him like it was for her. She realized she'd never been worried about Daryl caring whether she talked or not. That was just a lie Carol planted to help her out. Beth really just didn't want to talk about her and Daryl, because their love, their love-making, even love-fucking was special to her. She wanted it to be just theirs. 

"You a'right, lover? Got real quiet on me. I do something wrong?" 

"No," she said quietly and leaned beside him against the pew. He placed an arm around her shoulder, gently rubbing his thumb up and down the top of her arm, where it met the shoulder joint. 

"Then why do I feel like apologizin'?" At that, Beth snickered, sniffled and rested her head under his chin. He inhaled her and sighed out her lovely scent. He adjusted himself, slightly. 

"Not your fault," Beth sighed, "Guess I gotta grow up, that's all," 

"Don't let 'em patronize ya! Or make ya feel small, love. I can shut that shit down, you need me to,"

"Aw, Daryl. No! I just... I mean it's normal to talk about that stuff. I guess I don't want to because it's so special to me. Like our secret little life that's separate from all of this..." she didn't want to say what she thought, but it was the only word for it: "Shit. This shitty life, like you said that first night. I feel like our romance is just ours and I don't wanna cheapen it with gossip," 

"I think it'd be nice to talk 'bout how good I make you feel. Ta someone besides me. No shame in that."

He had such a great, sweet way of saying things sometimes! It just made all her worries disappear. Beth stepped closer and wrapped her arms around his waist. He leaned in and pulled her against his chest. She nuzzled her cheek into his sternum and he nested his chin in her hair. "Maggie says one the best parts about having great sex is talking about it afterwards. You think that's so?" 

"Remember what else I said back at the funeral home? I ain't too good with none 'o this shit either..." 

"Not like you were chasing tail or some stud or whatever," Beth finished the words he'd said to her all those long nights ago, with a serene smile.

"Right." He thought a little bit. "Merle 'n some the guys we ran around with used'ta talk details bout sex. They seemed to enjoy it plenty. He and I never really talked bout it, 'cept for him ripping me every time some girl did a walk 'o shame outta my room," he chuckled at the memories. "I dun mind you talkin' bout me wit' the hen club." 

Beth could feel him smile in her hair. Then his body tensed up a bit and pulled back to look in her eyes. His were shadowed with a fresh worry. She raised a brow in an unspoken question. 

"Just the good stuff, tho, a'ight? Nuthin bad," 

Beth beamed: "Daryl Dixon, no one could say a bad word about you!" His eyes weren’t comforted. The gorgeous blues squinted and darted to the side in thought. But the corners of his lips did twitch up, a little, at the praise. 

"Din' mean like that..." Daryl looked back into her. She almost shivered at the seriousness in his stare. "I mean if I ever piss ya off, I don wanna hear ‘bout that shit from Sasha or somebody," he pulled her close again and kissed her hair, "Come ta me wit it, first?"

Beth sighed into his chest, "I love you. I promise. The girls only get the good stuff about us!" Then she kissed his nearby peck, "Likewise. I don't want Rick tellin' me you're mad at me, please?" Daryl nodded into the crown of her scalp; kissed her hair again, longer and lovingly, breathing in heavy. And he squeezed her waist.

"Yes ma'am, Ms. Greene," he cooed. 

She twisted his braided boot-leather ring on his finger, "Shouldn't that be Mrs. Dixon, now?" she smiled. 

"S'up to you. I understand if you wanna keep yer Daddy's name," he inhaled her hair again, deeply, "Hershel don't have no livin' sons to carry on his namesake. Up to his girls to be his legacy," 

Gosh! Daryl kept saying the right thing tonight! And never what she expected! He just kept surprising her! Beth pressed herself against him, warm and loving, stifling back the urge to cry a few tears. Then she giggled. "So... if we have a baby it'll be a Greene-Dixon?" 

"Sounds bout right," Daryl hitched a leg round one of hers, pulling their pelvises together. He dipped her backwards, his hands snaking up her spine. Her hair fell off her shoulders, around his fingers and spilled down towards their feet. Daryl's eyes danced with more than desire above her. It was that wonderful love she saw deep within him. Daryl, her man, her perfect... 

"Husband," she said it out loud to him.

"Wife," he smiled in answer. 

Daryl bent forward, at the waist, holding her in the dip, pressing his torso smoothly against hers as he leaned over her. Beth loved it. She felt like a dancer falling gracefully backward in his strong arms; or Scarlett O'Hara in Rhett's passionate embrace; or maybe a cartoon princess about to be lavished in kisses. 

She was all those things and more to Daryl Dixon. He told her with his moist and meaningful mouth on hers. Beth finally realized she might like talking about this after all! As she imagined describing how good she felt in this moment, she smiled wide against his lips. 

How was she going to talk about Daryl without bragging?


	2. Carl's Songs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beth's music has healing power.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song of Survival, by Helen Colijn, is a fascinating **true story** about how learning music, making music, and performing music basically saved the souls of dozens of WWII prisoners over 3.5 years in an internment camp. The author details very visceral survival stories- including a shipwreck in the Pacific Ocean, all the rigors of disease, starvation and death in the camps. I _strongly_ suggest you read Song of Survival, if you're into the power of music and its effect on true life-and-death situations.

Ever since the group fled Terminus and took up residence at the mega-church, Beth and Carl spent a lot of time together in the nursery with Judith. Rick would come and go. Everyone did. The baby was such a pick me up! Daryl made sure Beth wasn't taken advantage of, again. He led the charge at the council for babysitting shifts to be assigned like guard shifts. And he insisted Rick spend more time with his daughter than any of the prison survivors. Lil'Ass Kicker had been raised by everyone but her Daddy, so far, and it was time she started building a bond with Rick. The Sheriff agreed, of course. So Rick was the only one given a mandatory shift with Judy every single day. It shouldn't have been that way, mandating a father spend time with his kid, Daryl protested in private. But Rick was man enough to admit he'd let his duties with Judith slide drastically at the prison. And, in fact, Rick was sure that, given the opportunity, he'd shirk baby responsibilities again. Daryl didn't like that. But at least Rick was honest about it.

Beth volunteered for a daily shift. She was used to it, she explained to Daryl. Besides, a few babysitting hours each day was _way_ less work than at the prison, "So, you don't have to feel like your efforts were in vain," she soothed late one night, in bed, with his arms draped around her. 

"Hmph," he snorted. Then grumbled: "I better get used ta ya gettin' what ya want all the time," he pinched her hip, tickling her, in just the way he _knew_ she hated. Beth tried to elbow him, but he was too fast and strong. Dodging her jabs, wrestling her immobile, he got more tickles in. Beth tried so hard to tense up and not laugh! He reveled in her squirming shrieks of protest and uncontainable chuckle-snorts. Finally kissing away her complaints. Then he rose up, "Wait, I know what I'm s'pose ta say," and he smirked: "Yes, dear." She had enough room, at last, to slap his shoulder. He feigned shock, blocking each of her next playful blows, "Yes, dear! Yes, dear!" he defensively mocked. They laughed together, soon passing out, smiling in one another's arms. 

\----------------

For a while, Carl spent more time with Judith than anyone. He would hang out in the nursery during Michonne's shifts, Beth's shifts and Rick's shifts. Sometimes even randomly with other people. It was only when he started to take up the guitar that he spent less time with the baby. During Beth's shifts, she always played piano and sang to Judy. There were plenty of instruments in storage near the sanctuary. One day, Beth brought a nice, new-ish, acoustic guitar into the nursery. Carl was intrigued as Beth strummed some chords and sang a lullaby. For a week afterwards, day after day, Beth taught Carl to play the guitar during her babysitting shifts.

He practiced alone, outside, in the playground of the church. Or sometimes you'd see him walking and strumming through the graveyard. He practiced in his room, occasionally, but he'd get embarrassed because he knew people could hear him there. Most often, you'd see him over the little road from the church, on the edge of the lake, sitting crossed legged in the grass, just playing and playing.

"Carl, I have to say, I'm really proud! You're getting very good at your beginner chords. Do you want to try some popular three chord songs? You'd be amazed how many songs are just those main three chords. And _you_ can play them now! Before I even teach you to read sheet music. What'd'ya think?" 

"I guess so," his face constrained, in his way, "I'll have to think what songs I'd like..." Then he looked up at her: "Are there songs we could play together?" and he ducked his head, just as fast, "I mean, like you on the piano, me on guitar... and maybe we could both sing?"

"Whoa! You wanna sing too? Brave!!" she glowed. She thought it might be praise at her teaching efforts; her passion for music in general.

"Mom and I used to sing in the van on the way to school and stuff," he sighed.

Carl always looked so down-hearted and miserable. Even now that they'd been in a safe place for weeks! It was so tragic, being around him. Beth knew the music was helping, but there was a melancholy to that, too. She noticed he'd play painful variations of the practice bars she gave him. Whenever he was improvising, there was sadness in his songs. She wanted to help him break through that despondence to a place where the music might bring him peace. Maybe, she hoped, eventually bring him back to that smiling, laughing kid she remembered on the farm. Although, she accepted that was very wishful thinking. 

\-----

One day, after about two hours of practice, Beth and Carl were playing with Judith on the floor and laughing. Carl's face suddenly shadowed again, like it always did. It was just after a fit of the giggles, together, close to one another, on the floor, on either side of the baby. Beth was so happy to hear his regular, real laughter! She looked right in his eyes, to see the genuine mirth in his darkened features, for once. And that's when it happened. That's when Carl's face grew somber and sad again. Finally Beth-the-oblivious figured it out. She knew he had a crush on her at the prison, but it's almost like, with everything that happened, she'd forgotten about it. Not forgotten, but not taken it into consideration all this time she'd been teaching him music. She felt like a tease, suddenly, like she was torturing him. But she hadn't meant to! It was an accident.

"Carl..." she started.

"No, Beth. I'm okay," he obviously lied. Beth didn't know what to say. So, she thought she'd play a little music to fill the silence. Beth stood and went to the piano. She plucked the first notes of "Peaceful Easy Feeling" and Carl sighed heavily behind her. "Can I ask you something?" his voice was his father's. Younger, but still his throat was calloused. It was too heavy for him. Beth hated to hear it. 

"Of course," she smiled, not turning to look at him, but continuing to play. She thought perhaps he'd prefer to talk to her back in this moment. Maybe that would make it easier. 

In a higher pitched voice of adolescence: "I... I know you knew I..." he let out a long breath of frustration through his nostrils. He really hated himself right now. Why was he even doing this? Why was he spending so much time with her? It was like a slow suicide. But he did love the music. By himself, practicing, he always played sad songs about everything he'd lost... including her. It helped. He had to admit, mourning musically was helping.

Beth kept playing and trying to send him encouragement and friendship through her song. The keys were corresponding to the lyrics "And I know you won't let me down..."

He swallowed the last stupid fears left in him. What did he have to be afraid of, really? Nothing. He already knew the answers to all his questions. But for some self-sacrificial reason, he had to hear her say the words. He wanted that finality. He wanted the conclusion. Plus, he prayed there would be something else, besides the stabbing dagger of her total rejection. Something, maybe, he didn't know, comforting? Or hopeful? Beth was like that. She could always be depended on for that. And he couldn't handle not knowing anymore.

"I ain't gonna ask why you're with Daryl," he said with surety in his voice, "If I was you, I woulda picked Daryl,” deeper and more mature than Beth ever heard him sound.

Though, she could tell his chin was down low to his chest. She stopped playing, but still didn't know if it was okay to turn around. He might seize up if he saw her face right now. She imagined she would, if she was confronting her long lost high school crushes about why they didn't choose her. 

"Look, I just, Beth," more commanding, Rick Grimes was there in Carl's voice: "I wanna know if you ever saw me that way, even a little, even once?" 

Now it was okay to turn around. She did. Beth turned on the piano bench and looked right at him, without pity. She smiled her usual Beth smile, radiating comfort. "No, Carl, I'm afraid I really never did," she said very kindly, but without talking down to him. She said it like she would have said it to Maggie, with a straight face and with love.

"Why?" his hard, dark eyes bore into her, "I mean… you and Daryl are like 15 years apart, or more! I'm only 5 years younger than you! By the time I'm a man, I'll be..." he wanted to say a better choice than Daryl. But there was no way he could. Suddenly, he imagined 65-year-old Daryl, with a raised crossbow and strong features; badass manliness still oozing from him. Not a drop of old age in the way he carried himself. God, Carl hated Daryl right now. Not really, but... really! Carl felt and looked older than Daryl these days. Carl figured he’d be an old man by the time he was 20 and Daryl would go on in exuberant youth ‘til his was 100 or something. It was so unfair! How the hell did Daryl maintain that childishness of his? Carl knew all those parts of himself were dead and gone, yet there was Daryl, the biggest hard-ass of their group, still with innocence in his features at certain times, like he could just turn it on and off at whim. And Beth. She still had that innocence, too. Carl felt very stupid for thinking he could ever have been a match for her. He was too much of a monster for Beth. Or anyone. He realized she hadn't spoken and was just waiting on him to collect his thoughts. She was still smiling that simple, dimpled, closed-lip smile of hers. It was an encouraging sight. He couldn't believe he didn't feel any condescending, or worse, pity, from her! She was sitting here treating him like an equal. Which was a first. "Thank you for looking at me like that," he said, "You used to always talk over me and look down on me. Like I was a baby to you. Thank you for _not_ doing that right now."

"You're welcome," she said, her cheeks creeping up to make her eyes squint in a grin. Still, she waited on him. 

"I'm alone," Carl moaned, finally looking away from her and down at his baby sister wiggling and scooting around the floor. Judith would be crawling any day now and giving everyone a workout chasing her around. He looked back up at Beth, "Everyone in this damn place is coupling off like rabbits in heat! And I'm alone, Beth! It sucks!" he clenched his teeth. Now he was whining. Great. That really helped. 

"Tara mentioned something like that the other day," Beth mused, not ignoring Carl, but trying to converse with him like she would anyone else, while also giving him an example of another person in his plight, "You're too young for everyone here, and no one swings the way Tara does... so it's like both of you are just in limbo waiting on someone, anyone, to come along who fits," 

"Yes! And I don't want it to be like that when I meet someone! I don't want it to be like: 'Well, you're the only option for me, so let's get to it...'," he felt like such an idiot.

"I understand completely," Beth sighed. "If I'm being honest with you,” she looked right at him, “Carl, that was one of the things that turned me off the idea of you and me."

His head shot up in total shock. She'd thought about him like that before?! She smirked at the question in his eyes. Reading his mind: "Of course I thought about it, Carl. I had to. Like you said, it was like you were my only option; before Zach and the other Woodbury people came along. Plus, everyone kept acting like we were made for each other or something, just because we were the two youngest. So, of course, I had to consider it. I mean, how could I not with all that stupid pressure? Plus, it was very obvious you liked me,"

"Yeah, sorry," he blushed, "I didn't try to hide it at all. I didn't think it would bother you, like that, I mean. I wasn't thinking about everyone else and the pressure and all. I was just thinkin' 'bout you," he smiled at the memories of times in the prison.

"It wasn't fair to either of us, the way we were sort of an arranged marriage in everyone's eyes. Whenever I thought about you, like that, I just thought: there's no way I'm going to end up with this kid everyone wants me to end up with! It wasn't your fault. And, honestly, Carl, I can't say what would've happened if you and me were alone together for months like Daryl and I were,"

"We woulda died," Carl flatly stated. "I'm sorry, Beth, but we woulda died. I couldn't of protected you from nothing. I had to learn the hard way. All my new badass skills aren't so great when I'm alone and faced with a bunch of walkers,"

Beth smiled, "You're _SO_ right!" And she really did laugh. He chuckled easily with her. The tension was starting to evaporate. "We would've been so dead if it was just the two of us! I had to learn how to do so much. Daryl had to teach me everything. I never even went on runs with anyone at the prison! I didn't know shit about surviving without walls or protection!"

"I knew a bit, but not enough. I'm not big enough yet, or strong enough. When Joe's men found us..." his eyes watered and Beth saw him shiver. When Carl first told her of his survival since the prison, he'd glossed over the part about Joe and his men. Simply saying Rick had saved them all by biting a guy's throat out. 

"What happened, Carl?" She wanted to go over to him, but stayed planted on her piano bench.

"I was useless," Carl balled fists on his upper thighs, his shoulders leaned hard over those fists, pressing angrily into himself, "I had no power against grown men. I..." he swallowed hard, "Beth..." at the sound of her name, called that way, she stood, walked over to him and put an arm around his shoulder. It was exactly what he wanted, but he cursed himself for wanting it. He hadn't talked to anyone about it, no one at all, since that night. He turned his head away from her, though he leaned his body closer. In a whisper he didn't want Judy to hear, "I was almost raped, Beth." He spat the _'r'_ word with venom and poisonous hatred. Beth tensed and clutched him tighter. His head rested in the slope between her shoulder and her hair; almost nuzzled into her neck, almost. His hat was forgotten. It fell to the floor when she hurriedly embraced him a moment ago. Carl turned his face into her hair. He didn't want to look at Judith or anyone. She wrapped her other arm around him, hugging Carl hard. 

"Raped? By a man?" Beth asked stupidly and kicked herself for her insensitivity.

"Yes," Carl growled with fire, "He was this fat, sick piece of shit!" his voice raised. Judy stopped playing and looked up at them.

Beth rubbed Carl's back and soothed him "shhhhh..." looking worried down at the baby. Carl needed to talk about this. She knew; and didn't want a crying baby to interrupt. But she was sure this conversation and the vibes around them would upset Lil Ass Kicker. "Let's go outside, kay?" Beth whispered. "I'll put Judy down with a bottle, alright? Maybe Carol can come a little early?"

"I don't want to talk anymore, Beth," Carl shook her off. He was pulsing, his fingers twitching on his thighs. He was reliving it. She knew that. She could see horror and shame behind his eyes.

"Well, I want to talk to you..." she looked right into him, "Please?" He nodded almost imperceptivity. "Good. Thank you. I'd really appreciate it." After putting the baby down in the crib, she lifted Carl with a hand around his shoulder, like he had a broken leg or something. She grabbed his guitar in her other hand. She wanted him to have it, outdoors, where it might help him relax. Carl rose limply and heavily, with her, his eyes a million miles away and his head down to his chest. He was a wounded warrior and she let him lean on her as they left the room. 

Baby Judy got fussy, realizing she was going to be alone, and dropped her bottle in the beginnings of a hissy fit. Just before Beth turned around, she saw Michonne in the hall. Beth and Carl looked right at their heroic idol, for help. Michonne immediately calculated their situation, nodded acceptance, with a special, loving smile just for Carl. Beth felt him raise up at Michonne's recognition. He actually smiled in return and stood straighter, a little away from Beth.

"Get outta here, you two," Michonne ordered. Then she turned into the nursery, cooing "What's wrong lil' one? They all up n' leave you?" reaching for Judith and her bottle.

Outside, down by the lake, Carl flopped down and quietly looked over the water. Beth set his guitar beside him. He ignored it and just stared far away. His father's hat shading his eyes and most of his face. Beth smiled at the image of him. If he wasn't so tragic in this moment, reliving his horrors, she would think him attractive. He was going to make some girl very happy when he grew up. As she watched and waited on him to be able to speak again, she imagined his teenage features morphing into those of a grown up. She saw Lori's hard jaw line and Rick's stern brow. She saw Carl looking strong and brave and coming into his own. She imagined how much happier he'd be in an adult's body. She smiled for future Carl. And hoped that present Carl could find a way to appreciate his current life without pining for that eventual future.

Carl's heavy sigh brought Beth out of her musing. "I fought him as hard as I could, Beth, as hard as I _fucking_ could,” she thought he deserved to cuss like that right now, so she stayed quiet, “But before long, all I could do..." a pained exhale, "...with him on top of me... was whimper and whine and cry and beg him, saying 'no, no, no' over and over," his voice cracked on each of the last words.

"My God." Beth felt tears sting her eyes, "Carl, that's so terrible!" but she had to focus on the positive, on the now, "I'm so glad you survived!! I'm so glad it didn't happen…"

"My Dad saved me," he smiled, then bitterly: "again," followed with a huff. 

"Yes. He did. And there's nothing wrong with that, right? Your dad's saved all of us, a bunch,"

"I want to be the one doing the saving,"

"You will," she rested a hand on his shoulder. "You will. Someday, you'll be doing **all** the saving." A thought occurred to her; an idea to help him: "And you'll have to remember what it felt like to need rescue,” her hand squeezed his shoulder, “You'll have to be empathetic and understanding to the people you protect. See your younger, more defenseless, self in them and remember what it was like. Respect them the same way everyone here respects you, now. Remember what you want and need from everyone today and remember to give all that to your future charges. Help make them stronger, like you got stronger,” she inhaled heavily, her whole system taxed by the weight of all this. She released the grip on his shoulder. He turned and looked at her, his deep blue eyes gorging into hers. She smiled again: “I think, if you can do all that, it will make you an amazing man, Carl. A man I wouldn't mind leading our group." He was staring at her and she smiled genuinely, in her most beaming smile. "You'll be in charge when Daryl and I are all old and frail and changing each other's senior diapers," she chuckled to change the mood.

"Ha!" Carl smirked, "You two'll be last ones that'll ever get old like that. I imagine Daryl kicking ass and raging youthful even after he's a hundred! And you never age, Beth. You're perfect. You will be young forever, at least to me," and he beamed right back at her. 

"Thank you, Carl," she blushed, a little, and he loved it. 

"Thank _you,_ Beth." Then he had a thought, "So, you really think, if we'd been alone for months like you and Daryl were alone, that maybe..."

"Maybe," Beth nodded, "Who can say? But I'm glad we're not, honestly. I think you're meant for someone else; someone new, someone like you."

"What do you mean, _like me_?" 

"Well, I lived all my childhood in the real world, _before._ The apocalypse came and made me a woman when I was already pretty much a woman, as far as age is concerned. But you... and other people your age, some woman you’ll meet someday… you lived out half your childhood in this," she gestured all around her. "That makes you very different from me. And your generation very different from mine,"

"Yeah. We’re weaker and more likely to die. There were a bunch of girls closer to my age from Woodbury, remember? And they're all dead now. And I would've died too, or been raped, if it wasn't for my Dad and Michonne," he didn't sound defeated or angry anymore. More matter of fact and thoughtful. Beth was proud of him.

"There will be other young ones, like you, who had people taking care of them and saving them over and over. You guys will inherit the Earth," she smiled, "and that'll be a bonding experience like nothing even Daryl n’ me or Glenn and Maggie can boast of, you know?" 

Carl's eyes really sparkled at the thought. He was imagining his future wife and their survival and leadership, together, in this world. His jaw set in determination. "You know, you're right, Beth. That is going to be nice. I almost hope I don't meet her until I'm older... when you paint it like that,"

"And until then, Carl, you're not alone, like you said you were. You're not,"

"I know," he sighed contentedly. Then he smirked really wide at her: “I just wish I could get a camper or something and live outside. Or up in the attic. Away from all the lovers in the bunk rooms!” 

“I get it! Damn! First Carol, then Daryl, now you! How many times am I going to be told to have quieter sex!? Geez!” Beth scoffed, exasperated and pushed him, almost knocking him in the grass. He laughed and laughed. 

“I dunno! Maybe until you learn how to do it?” then he shoved her back, “Com’n, you know it’s not just you. It’s everyone! I can hear everyone! Trust me, when you’re the only virgin in the building, every murmur wakes you up!” And he picked up his guitar, "Thanks for bringing this out with us," he strummed a few chords. 

Beth was so happy to see his genuine smile again. See his face the way she remembered it on the farm; before the winter or the prison; before Lori died. She leaned back on her hands, behind her in the grass, and listened to him play little melodies and ideas that came to him. For once, none of his made-up music sounded miserable.

"Three chord songs, huh?" he smiled up at her from under the brim of his hat.

"Yeah. Most of the popular ones were," she looked out over the softly rippling lake in the wind. Carl played three chords over and over, trying to think of words that sounded right with them... and with how he was feeling. Then it hit him! He started laughing, strumming a ‘G’ and began to sing in his more high-pitched adolescent voice. He was on key, as he remembered it: 

"It's the end of the world as we know it..."

"Ha!" Beth exclaimed in a laugh. Carl continued:

"It's the end of the world as we know it,  
It's the end of the world as we know it..."  


Beth joined: "And I feel Fiiiiinnnnnneeee!" Her high pitch trilled the background: "I feel Fiiinnnnneeee!" as he strummed harder and harder, singing his own "Fine!" Then they looked at each other, at the end of the chorus, heads nodding on each word, in unison, as he stopped the guitar and let the last note hum around them:

**"And I Feel Fine!!"** They guffawed together at the ridiculousness of it all, truly feeling just fine. 


	3. Bragging Rights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beth's Bragging: Ask and ye shall receive!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The women are building an underground oven, in the early morning. 
> 
> Seriously, food cooked this way is _amazing!_ And it's fairly easy to learn how to do. Doesn't have to be as complex as a roast pig luau! Too many sites online to list just one link. Search: "underground oven" or "Dutch oven cooking underground." You don't have to own a Dutch oven, but if you do, there's even more ways to do this!

Energetic anticipation welled up in a nervous, antsy Beth. She was so excited to gossip about her husband and how lucky she was to be the only girl in the world who got to spend night after night curled up in his strong arms. And… do other stuff. What to tell first? She didn't know where to begin. As she worked with the other women, digging a hole, lining the hole with flat stones they’d collected the day before, Beth tried to come up with how to start. How to change the conversation’s course from mundane to scintillating?

"Where’d you learn to build one of these?" Michonne asked Tara. 

"The Mormon church where we used to live had these disaster days. Be prepared for tornadoes, that sort of thing,” and she laughed, remembering how silly she thought it was back then. “They'd demonstrate cooking all sorts of good stuff in these underground Dutch ovens in front of everyone. And hand out sheets explaining how to do it yourself. We cooked in the yard, once or twice a year, the whole family, just for fun. My niece loved to make peach cobbler in the ground! It was her favorite Fourth of July tradition." 

See? How was Beth supposed to follow _that_ up with sexy talk? She didn't know what to say! It'd been over a week since Daryl gave her his blessing to talk dirty about him with her friends! But she hadn't had any real opportunity. She wanted to corner Maggie a few times and girl-talk just the two of them, but Maggie kept getting overnight watch shifts with Glenn and being passed out during the days. It was so annoying! Beth never did this before. She listened, idly, a bit jealous, to her friends back in school. But that was years ago. She didn’t remember how it came up! 

Now she had most of her favorite women here, working hard in a circle around her- Carol, Maggie, Rosy, Tara and Michonne. It was a beautiful morning, amazingly not humid. They were all focused on a task. So, they wouldn't be staring at her the whole time; maybe she’d be less giggly and fumbling. The men were a good ways away, mostly inside, or out back, prepping the big ‘ol turkey Daryl bagged last night. No worries about being caught in her talk. She couldn't take it anymore, before someone else got a different conversation going, her heart racing: 

"Daryl's pubic hair isn't curly!" she blurted out suddenly. All the women stopped immediately and just stared. Beth cleared her throat, and wet her nervous lips, continuing in an unsure voice: "Like... isn't it supposed to be? It's slick against his skin all the time, like a wet horse's mane…"

Michonne's brow furrowed: "What on Earth?!"  
Well, Beth thought, Michonne wouldn't get it, she'd been out on a run during the cookie-gossip fest. But no one else was reacting quite like Beth expected, either.  
Rosy almost died laughing. She actually bent over, gripping her knees!  
Tara's eyebrows were higher than Beth'd ever seen them and just wouldn't go down. She looked like she wanted to laugh, but was too surprised or confused.  
Carol just stood up from crouching over the pit with a slight blush, not looking at anyone. Beth knew about their little tryst in the prison watch tower, she assumed that's what Carol was thinking of. Carol probably remembered that particular detail about Daryl.  
Maggie flushed and hurried over to her sister.

"Beth! What the hell?!" she hissed. 

"What?! I wanted to talk about Daryl. He said it was okay. I thought that's what you wanted!" 

"Oh my god! You've really never done this before!?!" Maggie clasped a hand over her mouth, her eyes were all apologies. 

Rosita finally caught her breath, "Bethy, I'm so sorry!! I didn't mean to..." and she struggled, "laugh so hard!" 

Beth suddenly realized, by the way they were all looking at her, that she'd done something wrong. She knew she never wanted to do this! Damn! Her skin was Strawberry Shortcake's and she thought even her hair must be pink! 

"Who put 'er up to this?" Michonne wheeled on all of them. When no one answered: "Beth, don't listen to these hyenas! That shit _can_ just be your own business!" 

Beth felt she might cry. This was like having a period stain on your pants in high school! Everyone was just staring. Maggie looked like she wanted to help, but didn't know how. Carol to the rescue, as always. 

"Beth, honey, we're sorry. Please. No one's judging you here. You just took us all by surprise. That... what you just said... that's not really what women talk about when it comes to sex," she put a genuinely affectionate hand on Beth's shoulder, "No one likes to think about the oddity of pubes. I think we all try to forget they're down there. Plus, your timing was pretty out-of-nowhere. But we'd all love to hear what you've got to say. Seriously, don't be ashamed,"

'Well, it was just the first odd detail that came to mind the other day!" even with Carol's speech, Beth felt the need to defend herself, "I wanted to see if that's normal or if it was just me that found it weird... that's all... " 

"No, that's pretty weird," Tara offered, "Never heard of a man, or woman, with smooth short hairs," 

"They're actually kinda long," Beth said, absently; inciting a collective cringe and an "Ehhh!" from the group. "What?! What am I supposed to tell y'all, then?!" her almost-tears rose up again. She felt so, so stupid right now! Beth looked to Maggie for support and her equally stupid-looking sister just gaped and stared, not quite ready to put words together yet. Carol leaned in and whispered in Beth's ear. 

"Mind if I help get you started? Something I remember ‘bout Daryl that the ladies would like to hear and I'm sure you can elaborate on?" 

Beth totally hated that idea. But she was trapped. And she refused to run away. She'd chosen to start this whole gossiping about sex with Daryl thing; and she'd chosen to do it with Carol around. She had to take what help she could get. Carol stood and walked a little ways away- reassessing their work on the stone circle. She cleared her throat so the ladies would look away from Beth. They all probably thought Carol was going to change the subject entirely, get back to the task at hand, save Beth any more embarrassment. Instead, this is what she said: 

"As I recall, Daryl _seemed_ to like it rough... is that so, Beth?" she grinned, turning everyone's attention back to the blushing blond. 

"Oh! I can totally see that!" Rosita exclaimed. 

Michonne rolled her eyes and gave up. Obviously, this was happening. She might as well play along. "Yeah, makes sense," she said with a small grin. 

They all expectantly looked at Beth for confirmation and... details...! 

Beth smiled, through her slowly un-flushing skin, right at Carol, in an unspoken 'thank you'.

"Ye-Yes..." she began, "I mean, he wasn't rough at first! He was gentle as an angel for a long time, like I was a china doll or something. I sort of... _asked_ for it to get more... intense... the day after the minnow fishing at the creek," 

"I ~KNEW~ it!!!" Rosita cheered. "I've never seen so much afterglow as you two had that day!" 

"It _was_ pretty obvious," Tara smiled. 

"So... how rough is 'rough' then, Bethy? If he's also worried ‘bout hurtin’ you?" Maggie asked a big-sister question. Beth shot her an annoyed glance. 

"Really?! He's not abusing me, Mags!" 

"No... I mean... of course," Maggie realized she'd bit off more than she could chew with this Beth sex-talk, too. 

"Seriously, though," Michonne's eyes sparkled mischievousness, "define _rough_." 

Beth thought for a second, "Well, that day, he held me so tight against his chest, I couldn't move. It was like... what do they call that leather stuff? Bonding?" 

"Oh my gosh! Bondage?!" Rosita couldn't contain herself, totally loving this. 

"Yeah! Like bondage, only... with his body. Like, just his arms and how strong he is. I don't stand a chance when he wants to hold me still..." she smiled, her eyes glazed

She heard several women sigh... a good kind of sigh. The way she imagined when she played out this conversation in her head, before she mentioned pubic hair. Beth was good at this! Or she was off to an okay start, now. "It **is** pretty great," she sighed along with them. "I mean, in the moment, it's like I lose my mind, like I'm not even there anymore. It's just all physical and... like animals or something, like primal..." her face kind of hurt from grinning and blushing. 

"Wow," Maggie said. Everyone was just sort of silent in their imaginations.

Beth was curious: "Um... has anyone else ever had, um, rough sex like that before?"

"You would think Abraham is the rough type, looking at him, but he's tame as a kitten," Rosita said. 

"He's a ginger," Tara joked, "aren't they all naturally soft and gentle?" Then she giggled, "I've never been with a red-head... how are his short hairs? Just like on the top of his head?"

"Carol's right," Rosita grumbled, "I am _so_ done with pubes!" 

"That means yes!" Maggie said with a smile. Everyone silently noted that she, too, was a redhead, but no one mentioned it. Maggie wanted to recover from her party-foul question earlier, get more comfortable talking about this stuff with Beth. So, she thought it was her turn: "Glenn's really sweet and sensual, too. He doesn't really do the rough stuff. But he makes up for it with stamina for days! Like... _**days.**_ It's amazing." 

"Ya' do kinda plod 'round here all bow-legged," Michonne laughed. 

Beth laughed too: "No, no!" she offered, "See, that's from the horses back in the day! All that riding…" 

”She’s not _riding_ horses anymore!” Carol joked, to everyone’s giggles.

Maggie smirked: "Yeah, it's... also... cause of Glenn," and the Greene sisters exchanged an easy laugh. Maggie was relieved she’d broken that tension. Then her face twisted in a way Beth’d never seen: “I mean, Glenn shares several qualities with horses… not just stamina. I’m bow-legged for other reasons with him... the stereotypes ‘bout Asians DO NOT apply to my man… ” 

A whooping cry, like you hear from a gaggle of drunk ladies in the corner of a bar, arose from all of them in unison. The mirth sang and fell in waves and gasps. It was a great moment. A great feeling. Laughing and hawing and cheering, the women clutched one another and wheezed for air. They all turned and looked towards the church, making sure none of the men were poking their heads around in response.

"So, Beth, back to you," Rosita gestured, "What's your favorite thing Mr. Dixon does to you?" 

Beth’s brow shot up. That was a good question. “Can I say… everything?” she tried to buy time. When the collective clearly wouldn't take that for an answer, she scrunched up her lips to the side with a thoughtful “Hmmm…” All could see memories dancing on her eyes. All were impatient to learn the history of every glimmer. Then Beth smiled a sigh, “Honestly, the way he holds me when he kisses me, or when we’re falling asleep, or just… whenever. Being held by Daryl is warmth swelling all over, his pulse and breath and heat. He expresses so much embracing me… it’s overwhelming! I feel so much of him, everything he wants me to feel. His words aren't always the best and he's got a temper, but when he holds me, he tells me everything he'd say if he had any other language for it. His embrace, that's… the best,” and she nodded the last word in a dreamy slump of her head. 

There wasn’t a dry eye, or vulva, in the house. 

\---------------------

“So…. what’d’ya tell the ladies ‘bout me?” he smiled into the back of her neck, as they softly spooned their way to sleep. 

“Hmmm?” she feigned ignorance and tiredness. 

“I heard them cacklin',” he squeezed her lightly. 

“Why’s it gotta be ‘bout you?” she mocked his drawl and felt him grinning at it. He liked her trying to talk even more country than she was. He purposely spoke with more inflection: 

“Because I know it was about me,” and he pinched her hip, “Missy!”

She jumped and rolled around to face him, flopping one arm over his midsection and the other chicken-winged between her chest and his. She smiled sweetness and serenity. “I ~may~ have finally gotten the chance to mention a thing or two, about you, my dear husband,”

“And…?” 

“Nothing graphic. I told them you like it rough… but they already suspected that,” still smiling her sweetest smile. He licked his lips, narrowing his eyes down at her. Daryl knew what she was doing.

“Fine. You’re right,” he gave in, “I told the guys some graphic stuff ‘bout you.”

“I knew it!” she poked him in the soft flesh near his armpit, between his shoulder and breast. Daryl was ticklish just there and he seized up. 

“You really wanna know what I told ‘em?” he graveled into her eyes.

“No! Of course not!” she squeaked. 

He sighed. “Yeah. Me neither. Keep your gossip to yerself, I guess,” 

“Oh, come on!” Beth cried, “You already know all my sexy stories and I know yours! All we gotta do for each other is keep writing ‘em… right?”

And he kissed her in response, lapping lovingly in her mouth. His hands trailed down her waist to cup each cheek from the sides of her hips. His palms worked the meat where hips become behind; rather than ducking down into the crevices between cheeks and thighs, like he usually did. A new move! And Beth liked it. She hummed appreciation. 

Daryl pulled Beth gently closer, hiking a leg over both of hers. His foot idly petted her calve up and down. She smiled through a purring inhale, as she pressed her cheek to his chest. Daryl kissed her hair and nuzzled his stubble against her scalp, making her whole head tingle. 

“Carol saved my ass again today,” Beth murmured in the sleepy lover’s voice she used only with Daryl. 

“Hmmm?” his throat vibrated next to her ear. 

“She’s good at that. Always knows what to say to help someone talk their way out of a corner,” 

Daryl nodded. Air was filling his chest deeper and longer. The rise and fall covered Beth’s body with a comfortable dozing haze. She blinked, trying to stay awake and feel him falling asleep a bit longer. He twitched and shook. 

“Quit it.” 

“What?”

“Blinking. Eyelashes...” 

Beth immediately blinked rapidly in earnest. He squirmed a little, all his chest muscles tightening. But then he clamped down all around her. He squeezed her body like he could somehow squeeze her eyelids shut. She remembered what all she’d told the ladies earlier today, about his strength holding her still. Beth chuckled into his chest and nipped her teeth at his breast. He softly released with another nuzzle of his scrappy chin on her skin. Beth smiled and shut her eyes, focusing on keeping them closed. The hazy heaviness returned, tingling her appendages in a wave from crown to toes. 

“I love you,” Daryl soothed, like a sacrament. The way only he could say it. 

“Love you too,” she sighed, her arm over him clinging just a bit tighter, “And I love bragging about you.” 

“Me too,” he whispered. Then after a moment: “Meaning I like when you do it _and_ I like bragging ‘bout you, too.” Beth smiled. He didn't have to explain that. She loved how he’d get self-conscious about something he said and then unnecessarily explain it- still! He still did that, after all this time! And she hoped he never stopped. It wasn't brag-worthy, but it was something adorable about him that was just hers. 

And those bits were the best of all. 


	4. Teaser

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Exactly what the title says.  
> A teaser to get us going again! (after a 2 month hiatus, wow!)  
> Hope you enjoy it as much as Beth does.

Daryl bound and gagged again! That same effing nightmare?! Beth's eyes clenched a few angry tears. This is how she'd wake up, the third day in a row, since Daryl left. They'd been in the mega church for a couple months and she'd long-since stopped having such stupid nightmares about things going to shit again. She was angry at herself for succumbing to these dumb fears just because Daryl was gone. And she didn't want to talk to Maggie about it. Beth opened her eyes. It was too early to talk to anyone, anyway. Wow. The light was barely graying her dorm room.

Then she remembered. Council had been meeting at dawn lately. It was Maggie's month. They'd been sitting on the council, in their father's place, in shifts; it seemed to work well for everyone. Except Maggie was bailing a bunch lately. Beth thought she'd missed two meetings this month! Maybe she should go down the hall and make sure her sister was awake. Nah. She rolled over to Daryl's side of their makeshift bed to see if any of his smell was still there.

After the first week of comfort at having an actual bed again wore off, Beth and Daryl began to get frustrated sharing a smaller than twin size bunk in their room. Since their bunk room contained two bunk beds, a total of four mattresses and pillows, they pulled all the mattresses onto the floor and arranged two horizontally, then stacked two vertically atop those. The new "bed" took up the whole floor of the small room. It made for bigger than a full size, not quite a queen, plus double the thickness of those flimsy bunk mattresses. 

All this equaled less sore backs in the morning! To finish the job, they'd started collecting pillows. They had the four bunk pillows, but those were so thin, Beth stuffed two of them into each pillow case to make a proper pillow. Daryl wasn't so concerned. Now the bed wasn't too small and he wasn't stiff in the mornings, he coulda just used one of the ordinary little bunk pillows. But he loved seeing Beth's reactions.

Beth was scrawling all her nightmare's rage into her journal when Daryl appeared at their bedroom door with another pillow in his arms. She squealed like a little kid whose dad just came home with a surprise puppy. All her stupid, irrational fears left on the pages and nothing but happiness to express to him.

"EEeee! Alright! Another one? Jackpot! Now we have an even number! Thank you, lover! Thank you!" and Beth replaced the pillow in his arms with her entire body, soft and exciting. 

She tossed the pillow on their floor-bed, and looking up at him with her chin on his sternum: "Also, I'm very glad to see you're home safe and alive and all that..." she played off her anxiety in a casual little quip. She was getting very good at this. 

His eyes darted to the left, with a small smirk; which was as close to an eye-roll as you could get from Daryl. He'd been on so many successful, safe runs, he knew his wife was no longer worried about his return. She no longer pleaded to go with him, just in case. He never settled into the same assurance. He was still concerned about their safety, every day. Daryl knew they could be ransacked, again. Have to fly out into danger, like every other place he'd ever felt safe. Damn. He hated reminders of similarity between his old life and this new one. He'd never truly allowed himself to feel safe anywhere. Not since his earliest memories. He shook them off. He was finally in agreement with Maggie. They'd had enough down time. Terminus was too close. Everyone had regained their strength with all this food and safety. It was time to move. Fortunately, they'd found a destination. But, he smiled, he wanted it to be a surprise for Beth. As long as he could keep it, anyway. 

Beth watched his mind work, breathing in his battles. She missed even this silent stillness of his contemplation. It'd been a long run, perhaps a dangerous one. Her mind's eye showed her husband beaten and gagged again. She blinked it away. Daryl began to move. One hand kneaded the knotted muscles of her upper back, the other palm on her exposed hip, thumb dancing along bare skin. He sighed heavy, his cheek falling to hers. Rough bristles tickling or scratching as his breath rose and fell in her ear. Beth waited, holding him, being a vessel for all that he was, even these long purges of pain.

He inhaled deep through his nose and regained himself. It was time to leave. Opening his eyes, Daryl huffed looking at their bed and six miss-matched pillows. Stubborn Beth, always injecting unnecessary softness into his life. Her damn singing, which he couldn't pretend he hated anymore. Making him have to admit, never out loud, but to himself, that he liked having one or two of these pillows touching his body as he slept. If he wasn't curled around Beth in the morning, he'd wake up curled around a pillow. Every freaking time. And whenever he rolled over in the night, he'd hit something soft. Stubborn softness in spite of all this. That was his Beth. And he stiffened, thinking of leaving all her plush treasures behind and how that'd make her feel. 

Beth followed his gaze behind them. She thought perhaps he was annoyed with the pillows, it was silly after all. "What's wrong, babe?" Beth slipped a few fingers under the back of his jacket, under his vest and shirt, caressing the small of his spine, bare to her touch, just above his belt. She felt him shiver and she smiled. 

"Sorry we're gonna have to ditch yer pillow fort, s'all," he murmured into her eyes.

"Well, we better make good use of it, then. Often as we can," her other hand ducked under the front of his jacket and vest, over his shirt, his taut musculature, beating heart, finding and warming his nipple with a pressed palm. Her fingers on his back lowered and tugged mischievously at his belt. Daryl's jaw clenched and chewed, his chin in her hair, resting on her crown. She could feel his jawline tense and release on her scalp. Made her mind wander to where else she'd felt those muscles maneuvering. And she kissed his chest, pulling softly at him to fall with her onto their pile of plushness. He kissed her hair and shook his head into it. 

"Nah, lover," 

Beth's hands meandered and tugged at his clothes in protest. He found them both and held them in his own, against his heart. Daryl's eyes were apologies. 

"Got council. Gotta discuss when n' how we're leavin' here," 

Her left hand, undaunted, pulled from his and darted down over the front of his pants. Daryl hissed in a breath between his teeth. Beth cooed: "I think you've got five minutes..." 

He reached back and closed their bedroom door. He walked her forward, between his legs, and lowered her onto the mattresses. Moving with her and over her, his knees crawled up against her hips. He kissed her forehead, each of her temples, one cheekbone and then Beth rose up hungrily to steal his kisses in her mouth. Daryl's tongue was as longing as her own. But his body's lack of earnest ecstasy, lack of fervor, told Beth he didn't have time to do all that she might want of him. So she took those kisses, smooth and soft and moving; her hands twining his hair and neck.

Licking away from his lips, at last, she sighed, "I missed you, and..." her eyes downcast, almost watery, worrying Daryl, then shaking her head, "Nothing. It's stupid."

"Hmph. Dun giv’me that shit," he tilted her chin back to face him, eyes searching and scanning, "Beth...?" her name in his love, melting and chilling everywhere. She just smiled faintly, the sound of his voice, finally back home with her, incapacitating her own. Daryl rose on his hands to look her all over, like he could find the problem and attack it. Finally settling back on her pitiful upturned face, "What happened?!" and he pressed his knees and hands forcefully into the mattress around her, bouncing her whole body: "Tell me!"

Beth had been writing about it in her journal just before he came in. As if her words summoned him from the ether. "I missed you. I worried about you. All my casual 'everything's okay, he's gonna be fine,' is just a cover... and a flimsy one!" she shuddered under him, angry fists bunching in his jacket. Daryl didn't have anything to say to that. He was glad it wasn't something more serious. She was ashamed of her fears, so she changed the subject: "And... and I really appreciate the pillows. Even if we have to leave them behind," she rolled a little, pulling at the newest one he'd just brought. She hugged it to her chest. "It smells good. Where did you get it?" 

Daryl smiled. He was proud of himself for this one. "Was in a case with perfumes. Decorative, like. Made it smell good, even after all this time." 

Beth snickered: "My grandma used to do that with scented soaps and perfume bottles in her underwear drawer. So the fabric would always smell of them. She told me it was how she got granddad." 

Daryl playfully sniffed at her breasts, nuzzling with his nose, "Hmmm, shoulda brought one of them bottles back too, huh?" She slapped at him, but he caught her hand at the wrist. He turned his face and kissed her pulse spot; tenderly tonguing the grooves where her wrist ended and hand began. Beth's body rose in waves of shudders under him. He moved his mouth to her palm, sucking in the hollow and smoothing over her life-line. Her knees pedaled slowly between his. Working up a froth for him to find.

Instead, Daryl rose, releasing her, as if to leave.

"How dare you!?" Beth groaned angst. His eyes flashed and in an instant he pinned her down. Both of her wrists clenched in his wide right hand. His grip pulled her hands over her head as she gasped his name. He pressed her wrists into the mattress, just hard enough to not hurt, but keep her wriggling. Balancing his weight on his knees, so as not to bear down on her wrists too hard, Daryl's other hand slid fast and easy to the heat she'd built for him. Their eyes locked as he slid around and through her folds. She was panting like the wild thing he loved deep within her. He was quiet and controlled and masterful. He made short work of her, fingers deft and defiant. How dare he, indeed? 

Beth shuddered waves within his grasp. Rearing up to his hips and thrusting her legs around his waist to pull him down and closer as she came. 

Beth silently caught her voice again and again in hitched inhales. Stealth orgasm, she was proud of herself. 

Daryl chuckled and rose again; satisfied in her swift satisfaction. Beth hugged the new pillow and stood with him, ignoring his boastful smirk.

"You hungry?" she offered. Beth interpreted Daryl's usual shrug response as 'yes, but I dun want you to go to no trouble.' and so she said: "It's no trouble, really. I'm not on baby duty today. And, besides, I'm hungry. So, I'll make myself something and you can have the leftovers,"

"Mighty generous," he opened the door for her to walk out ahead of him.

"You don't say you're hungry, you don't get your own plate," she winked at him and stuck her tongue out as she turned right towards the kitchen and he went left towards the council board room. 

Daryl shrugged again, but lingered a beat, "Need me to say somethin' for ya in there?" 

"Yes, actually," she'd forgotten and appreciated his reminder, "Tell Mags that if she skips another meeting I'm taking her spot over a week early!" 

"Next month is next week, ain't it? It'll be your turn anyway."

Beth had definitely lost track of time. "Well... threaten her with something else then. Get creative! Maybe I'll stay an extra week during my month to make up for her slacking!" 

Daryl smiled. Stubborn softness was just for him, apparently. With everyone else, she was just stubborn. "Yes ma'am," he said with genuine affection.

Beth trotted forward and pecked him on the lips. "Now get going! Don't you dare blame me for being late!"

"Course not," he smirked and squeezed her breast as a parting shot, turning and trotting off before she could retaliate. Freaking tease! Beth would get him back for that! She playfully stomped to the kitchen, as if he could still see her, smiling the way only he could make her smile.


	5. Fight Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lovers' Throw Down  
> With Daryl and Beth, it's not just a quarrel.  
> And making up is the best part!

Didn't matter how hungry or thirsty, no one was going in the kitchen right now. Every tired cliché of married-people-fighting was said over and over throughout the church: 

"Trouble in Paradise?" Bob asked Sasha.  
Or, "Looks like the honeymoon's over," Rick nodded towards the kitchen and quipped to Tyrese. 

Maggie and Glenn passed right on by the kitchen, with that knowing "we're the cool married couple who've been there and done that" look on both their faces. They weren't quite brave enough to waltz into the ring and grab a bottle of water or anything... but they sure acted like it. Everyone else was griping and snipping at each other, on edge by association.

Michonne made a beeline for the source of all this tension in the church. 

"Hey! Cool it you two!" she said, in her quiet cutting Michonne voice. She got a candy bar from the bowl on the counter while they stared at her, red faced, squinted eyes and locked jawed. Michonne was unmoved. She began to unwrap the candy bar. 

"Mind your own fucking business!" Daryl beat a fist on the counter. 

"Don't you yell at Michonne, you bully!" Beth screeched. 

"Take it outside, will you?" was all Michonne said as she threw the wrapper away and turned to leave, taking a big delicious bite of chocolate. Then she thought of one more thing: "You're getting under everyone's skin. Even the baby's been fussy and weepy all damn morning." 

The mention of Lil'Ass Kicker did the trick. Both of them softened and looked from Michonne to each other. Before Michonne was too far down the hall, she heard two sets of angry boots stomping out the building to the back. 

Daryl and Beth didn't go far. They made it out to the basketball court. No one else was back there. 

Daryl was livid. Angrier than he could remember being since Rick tried to keep Merle out of the prison. The walk from the kitchen to the court did nothing but build up rage fodder. Beth kept saying all the right shit to rile him up. She was cutting him down so hard if she’d been a man, he would’ve beat the shit out of her. He didn’t even feel sorry for thinking about it. Beth was being such a bitch! His wife was fucking reminding him of Merle. She wasn’t supposed to be that way! She wasn’t supposed to talk to him like everyone else his whole damn life! He wheeled on her, bowed up, glowering and fists clenched. Daryl practically spat in her face: 

”Now your fucking bullshit’s gone and upset Lil’Ass Kicker!”

” _MY_ bullshit?! Daryl Dixon, you are something fucking else. You are unbelievable! I can’t stand you right now!”

Daryl closed in on her: ”I won’t put up with you stirring shit! You better wisen’ up!”

”Or what?!” she rose on her toes to get as close to nose to nose as she could.

Daryl’s face crunched up hard and fast, his stabbing eyes barely visible. His chest rose and fell, nostrils flaring. Her beloved husband’s countenance was nothing but hate. Beth’s eyes watered when she realized Daryl actually wanted to hit her. She backed down immediately. She wasn’t afraid. She knew he’d never do it. But she was suddenly so very sad. And her sadness didn’t even faze him! 

He was proud as she stepped away: “Yer damn right, back the fuck up,” he snorted, finally turning his head away from staring her down. 

“We took this too far…” she whispered, “I…” 

Daryl waved her words away: “Get the fuck out of my sight, girl,” 

“Daryl…”

“I dun wanna hear it,” he turned fully away. But she heard his voice change, not really break, but change. It gave her hope. 

“I’m sorry. Please. I don’t want to fight anymore.” 

“Should’na started it, then,” his back said to her. 

“I can’t take it back… no…” 

“Ya can’t. I’m a worthless piece o’ shit like Merle and our pa…”

“ _You’re not!_ I’m sorry!” 

Daryl’s mind said all the things his mouth couldn’t: You sounded just like them, Beth. You made me out to be no better than them! You tore me down like they always did. You sounded just like them! 

He stomped off from her, white hot rage roiling in his wake. Too hot for Beth to pursue. She had no idea what to say. Her mind was giving her nothing… no words… no reassurance… nothing but hopelessness as she relived the whole fight and all the terrible things they’d said to one another. 

And more than anything, she wanted to run to her Daddy. She wanted his big strong arms to hold her and tell her it’d be all right. She could smell him. Whenever she deeply wanted him to be alive, the first memory that came to her mind was Hershel’s own unique smell. He’d hold his youngest child tight, telling her Daryl would forgive her and she wouldn’t lose him forever because of this one stupid fight. Losing Daryl, without Daddy there to comfort her. Daddy wasn’t around to give Daryl a talking-to and smooth things over between them. She dropped down next to the storage building, her back sliding down the wood slowly. When she finally reached the ground, her head buried in her knees. Beth sobbed so the whole stupid apocalypse could hear her. She cried for her father, her hurting husband and mostly for herself. How could she let such petty nothingness start such a horrible fight?

Daryl refused to cry. He was too angry to cry. He couldn’t trust his woman anymore. Couldn’t trust her not to hurt him. He was better off without her than like this! He was too angry even to hear Merle’s old nagging voice come up in his mind. That hadn’t happened since the day with the cannibals near that little chapel before they found Carol. Before Terminus. Seemed like a lifetime since he’d heard his brother’s voice outside of a dream or a nightmare. Now he’d be hearing his wife’s venomous, poison words to replace fucking Merle’s. Beth just wasn’t supposed to be like that. 

A voice that was neither his own, nor Beth’s, nor Merle’s, strained up from somewhere in his thoughts to remind him that he’d broken his promise in the first place. And hadn’t been all together apologetic about it. And that’s what got Beth so pissed to begin with. But damn it. She couldn’t just let it go? She couldn’t just forgive him for not being completely honest just this one fucking time and get over it? 

The other part of his mind thought back at him about how he was stubborn and ornery with her about it, from the get go, because he’d been dreading her finding out at all. And as soon as he was caught in his lie he got real defensive and bull-headed real quick. 

Sure, but he didn’t say none of the shit she said. He could’ve cut her deep, if he’d wanted. But he fucking loved her too much for that shit. And she didn’t love him back, right? Not as much, apparently. Cause she just flew off at the mouth like he was some average asshole she just fucking met or something. 

He fumed a while longer. But he was calming down. Hearing Beth cry her guts out was twisting his rib cage. He’d been pissed enough to think ‘let that bitch cry’ at first, but now it was getting to him. Now he was feeling sorry for her. Now he was wanting to make all this right and be done with it. 

But he realized he didn’t really know how. With Merle, when they fought like this, it always got physical and after the beating back and forth was done they’d just have a beer or something. A cigarette, maybe.

Having a smoke worked with Glenn a few months ago when they’d almost come to blows. Daryl had a fresh pack. Beth didn’t smoke, but maybe he could just be there, smoking, and she’d get it. His mind made up, Daryl headed for the shed. Beth’d better figure it out. Cause Daryl sure as shit wasn’t spelling nothing out for her. 

She smelled him. She heard him approach, of course, because he didn’t try to hide it, but she didn’t look up. She knew he was close by, though, very close, when she smelled him. Leather and dirt and tobacco. 

He was smoking. She snorted a little into her tear-soaked jeans. That wasn’t fair! It was bad for him… and… Well, damn it! She wanted something to calm down too! 

She sniffled and raised her head. He was leaning against the wall, right next to her, but not looking at her. His eyes were a mile off, in the trees somewhere.

“Can I bum one off you?” she sniveled, much weepier than she’d intended. She thought her voice would sound steady and not at all ragged. Fail. She kicked herself, but kept her face straight. 

His body didn’t move, but his eyes shot down at her. He chewed the inside of his cheek, looking at her. One eyebrow finally rose after what felt like eternity but was really a few seconds. 

“You ever smoked?” he gravel-ed, remembering she’d never drank before the moonshine shack. 

“Yeah. Mags and I, at the prison sometimes,” she sniffed, no longer looking at him, “And once or twice in high school, just to try it,”

He rolled his tongue around in his mouth, thinking on it. He didn't know why he was hesitating now. Wasn't having a smoke with her the reason he came over here in the first place? Maybe he just wasn’t any good with peace offerings. Fighting was so much damn harder with Beth than anyone else. 

“Stand up,” he ordered, flatly.

She slid her back up the building's wall the same way she'd slid down, slow and dejected. 

Daryl smirked a little holding the cigarette: "Say 'ah'," he held the butt out towards her mouth. 

"Don't you think you've patronized me enough for one freaking day Daryl freaking Dixon?!" 

He would've snapped back that she sucked at receiving peace offerings every bit as much as he did giving them out, but she must be feeling better, or too tired to fight anymore, because she didn't cuss. So he wouldn't either.

"Just open up, girl. Wanna try something," he wasn't going to let her spoil it with a shitty attitude. His eyes locked on hers as she parted her perfect little lips just enough to let him place the filter between them. She lightly tongued it into position in her mouth and raised her eyebrows at him... asking for a light. 

His eyes softened into something soulful and sweet and playful at once. Beth was not unmoved by it. In fact, she was having a hard time staying mad at those eyes. Especially as his face lowered closer to hers. He put the burning red tip of his lit cigarette to the scrappy shreds of tobacco peaking out of the end of hers. His face was so close, her heart sped up. Why was this so intimate? Why was this so sexy? She couldn't help her lips from twinging into a instinctively dirty smile. Her tip didn't burst to light, though, as she stood there focused on her husband's gorgeous face and the smell of the smoke from his mouth. 

"Inhale, lover," he breathed as low and quiet as he'd ever whispered air onto her goose-pimpled skin in the middle of the night. Her whole body bristled with recollection of that voice and its intentions. She inhaled not because he told her to, but to catch her breath as it ran off into the great depths of her most sensual memories. The smoke filled her mouth in a hot, satisfying rush; like a reward for imagining him inside of her. And she held it a moment, remembering what smoking was and how the mechanics worked so she wouldn't ruin this amazing moment with coughing and hacking. Then she confidently blew the warm tendrils of swirling grey slowly through her teeth and over her tongue, staring at him. He'd leaned his head back against the wall, all coolness. And she smiled, joking: 

"You know, I never understood how smoking was supposed to be sexy in those old magazine ads or black and white movies..." 

Daryl smirked, looking off at nothing again. "You do, now, huh?"

She leaned against him, just enough so that the place where their shoulders touched tingled. It was an answer to his question and her own peace offering.

Daryl liked it. Silence stilled between them. Each savored the promise of stability and recovery. Their shoulders weighed more heavily into one another's; forgiveness forged by their knowing flesh without words. Finally, their hands found one another's and clasped together. Daryl flicked the dregs of his cigarette away. Beth's head was feeling a bit light and her mouth was very dry.

"I need some water," she rasped. 

"A'ight. Wait here." 

Daryl's hand untangling from hers and the absence of his shoulder made Beth realize just how badly she felt for fighting with him at all. What had it even been about? Really? She licked her lips and inhaled deeply the last bit of warm comfort Daryl's peace offering gave her. Recalling the feeling all over her body when he lit it with his own, 'Oh, I"m keeping this,' Beth spun the butt of the cigarette in her fingers. She ground out the smoking tip against the wall of the shed before pocketing her token. Then Daryl returned with an old plastic margarine tub filled with fresh, cold water that stung her teeth when she first gulped it up. 

"Thank you," she wiped her mouth.

Daryl took a swallow for himself and watched her all the while.

"I'm so sorry," Beth said again.

Daryl cleared his throat, "I am too."

Looking at each other, then away, and at one another again, they were both embarrassed by their inability to say anything else. Beth's words clenched in her throat and threatened to make her cry again. Daryl could only really say stuff when he was pissed. Now he was useless. He looked at her, up and down, Beth's body slumped like she'd fall if the shed weren't holding her up. Suddenly the lump of keys in Daryl's pocket felt heavy, poking him. He'd forgotten they were there.

"Com'n, girl," he took her hand and pulled her with him around to the other side of the little wooden building. He dug out the keys and opened the door with a creak. Then he motioned her inside.

"What? Do we need some rice or something?" The congregation of this end-of-days church kept bags of dry goods in these sheds out back. Beth looked at the bags of lentils layering the floor. Suddenly, they looked very comfortable and inviting, like a mattress. And she wheeled on her husband. Hands on her hips, Beth's eyes said: 'Really, Daryl?' 

Daryl replied to that look by peeling off his shirt, over his shoulders and his head, then tossing it at her. The sight of his musculature, so intimidating and anger-inducing just a little while ago, now aroused Beth more than ever before. The pulse of adrenaline ricocheted from her cheeks to the softness in the back of her knees. 

"Never had make up sex," Daryl groused as he stepped into the shed, pulling the doors closed behind him. The front of his pants caught the sunlight from the corners of the shed just right to make his hardness obvious to Beth. She swallowed and bit her lip. Anticipation was one thing, bubbling up in her chest and whirling throughout her, but she was also exhausted by the fight, and dehydrated still! Daryl closed the distance then stopped. He didn't know how to touch her, suddenly. He'd felt the sensation of wanting to throttle her. His muscles tensed with shame of how much he'd wanted to hit her, earlier. Could he be gentle now? An awkwardness rose up between them. But Beth realized what he must be thinking, the way his fingers flexed and tightened while his jaw gnawed. She could fix this. 

"Me neither," she cooed and closed in, "make up sex, I mean." 

"Better not of," Daryl smirked, relaxing, "less you got some on the side," 

"No one else will ever do," Beth lighted her fingers up his rib cage, thumbs pressing into the meat. "I mean it," watery eyes drowning him down to where all of her apologies for hurting him flowed freely into his soul, "I love you." 

"Damn it, girl, I love you," he molded against her, hungry and sorry, self-loathing and longing, "so much." 

Their bodies became voices for every sensation left in the wake of their first knock down, drag out fight. Running the gambit of emotion into her, Daryl's thrusts, his mouth and hands, told the truth of anger, hurt, guilt, his apology. And then, and then, again and again, Beth responded in kind, letting him into every part of her, untapped. Above all the skin and sweat was the fervor of empathy. The knowing of one another. 

When they stepped out of their love shack together, Beth and Daryl understood there would be another fight, another raid, more death and destruction. But their first fight taught the Dixons they'd never suffer alone.

"We can handle it," she soothed into his chest as his hands clenched around her in that embrace she'd bragged about to the other women; the hold that was only his, "we can handle anything, you and I, Daryl Dixon." His arms flexed in response, their chests rose together, inhaling the trust of their love against it all. 

~The End~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this is it for my Bethyl. I wrote this months ago, but then bailed on it as the season made it clear our hopes for a Bethyl ship were dashed. Tonight, I don't know why, I revisited, then finished Fight Night. I hope it's a fitting end to the No Car saga. I hope you've enjoyed the journey with me. I know I've enjoyed writing these stories. I'll keep writing other ships and other stories, one day, I'm sure. Thank you all for your love and support. ~ Sintina.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey all! Let me know what you think, please! Comments make my _entire_ day! And make me wanna write so much more! Hugs and love! ~Sintina


End file.
